


Hiding from the past

by Syven



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 10:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11229381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syven/pseuds/Syven
Summary: Originally written on 08/06/2008. Writing prompt for idea_of_sarcasm on LJ.  Post Deathly Hallows.





	Hiding from the past

The early morning sunlight streamed into the stained glass of the Gryffindor common room, casting beams of dusty light upon the worn tapestry carpet. Dim orange embers burned in the fireplace but had long since stopped putting off any kind of true warmth, the house elves had long since gathered in the kitchen and Great Hall to attend the needs of the wounded. 

Rubbing the palm of her hand against her cheek and leaving behind a smudge of dirt, she looked around, slowly taking in the damage as she passed through the room. She stopped at the base of the staircase leading to the girl's dorms, pausing to contemplate the missing stairs before picking a way past the gaps. 

Low murmurs came from behind the First and Second Year's doors but she knew they had been sent home long before the battle, quietly accepting that the Gryffindor sanctity had been converted into a shelter for those who had fought against the Dark Lord and his followers.

Light glinted above the sixth level, hinting that the giants had damaged the tower but she continued heedlessly toward the door that had been her home in the months before her exile to the Burrow. 

Turning the knob, Ginny blinked in surprise to find her room had been spared the devastation of the Third and Fourth Years dorms. Even her school trunk remained at the foot of her bed where she'd left it in what seemed like years ago when she'd returned home for Easter. _' Home,'_ she thought sadly, her nose tingling sharply and eyes welled with barely restrained tears, pushing the door shut, her shoulders sagged in unspoken gratitude. 

In the ten steps to her bed, she's toed out of her sneakers and pulled off the heavy, wool school sweater that stank of smoke and sweat, collapsing on the quilt and was asleep before rolling over.

"Stop! No. Nononono…" Ginny mumbled in her sleep, tossing violently, throwing off the quilt and flailing wildly. Hands grabbed at her wrists and a weight pressed against her side, holding her still but she struggled fiercely. 

A deep, masculine voice cut through the nightmare. "You're safe. You're safe, now, Weasley. Shhh, its okay - I've got you."

"What the…" she came awake, surprise and fear blossoming in her eyes as she took in the tall, dark figure above her on the bed and she opened her mouth to scream but he pressed a hand quickly over her lips. 

"I'm not going to hurt you, Weasley. You were having a nightmare," Blaise explained calmly, leaning back to let the beam of light streaming between the curtains illuminate his features before continuing softy. "I'm going to move my hand now, all right? There's no need to scream."

As soon as he released her, Ginny scrambled back against the headboard, clutching her knees to her chest, breathing hard. "What the hell are you doing in my room, Zabini?"

"I was sleeping until you woke me," he gestured to the adjacent bed with an easy smile. The shadowed lump of quilt had vanished and the bedclothes were disheveled, having clearly been slept in. It was only then that Ginny realized he was only wearing loose, cotton pajama bottoms and the little light that shone into the room confirmed that his sculpted, toned Adonis reputation was well-earned.

Edging another half-inch backwards, she averted her eyes from his smooth chest, a blush rising on her cheeks. "What are you even doing here? I thought Slytherin House was evacuated. The only ones who," she paused, her eyes growing wider as a thought cut through the fog of sleep. Quickly snatching her wand from the nightstand, she leveled it on him with a fierce gleam in her eye. "The only ones who stayed helped _them_!"

"Woah there, little kitten, I'm a lover, not a fighter," Blaise purred smoothly, turning his left arm over to show the unblemished perfection of his dark skin. "Professor McGonagall can speak for me but if you don't mind, can we do that in a couple of hours? I'm knackered." 

When she opened her mouth to protest, he stretched languidly as if to punctuate how tired he was and Ginny felt her cheeks flaming at the subtle ripple of his lean muscles, lowering her wand slowly. "I didn't think…" Ginny ran a hand through her hair, her gaze dancing between the quilt, the nightstand and some point over his broad shoulders. "You didn't answer my question. Why are you in my room?"

"The Aurors are guarding the castle but there's a few Death Eaters that aren't accounted for. I didn't want to stay in the dungeons alone under those conditions and Professor M thought it would be safer if we paired up," Blaise admitted quietly, his bravado diminishing with the confession.

Her shoulders relaxed at the mention of McGonagall's influence, instinctive faith in her head of house making her look at the Slytherin in a different light when he reached out. Leaning forward to brush her hair behind her ear, his gaze tracing along the curve of her cheeks, Blaise said, softly. "I'm sorry about Fred."

"Oh," Ginny gasped, catching her bottom lip between her teeth but her brown eyes welled up with tears immediately, her vision becoming a watery cloud as the bed shifted beneath her and suddenly, Ginny was folded against hot, silken flesh.

Blaise tucked her head under his chin and rocked gently. He ignored the too-tight grip she had on his shoulders, her nails cutting into his skin as he soothed. "That's it, let it out, kitten. Let it out. I've got you."

"I didn't… there… he… not fair…" she gasped between sobs, her nose pressed firmly into the crook of his neck as the overwhelming grief engulfed her for the first time. Thirty minutes passed before the watery words petered out, the soft gasps for breath eased and gradually, her body grew limp against him. Sorrow and exhaustion had finally merged and Ginny didn't have the will to struggle against sleep any longer. Easing her down to the bedcovers, Blaise returned to the adjacent bed, lying back against the pillows. A sliver of light cast an orange glow across Ginny's pale, tear-streaked cheeks and swollen lips but she slumbered restfully, curled around her pillow, oblivious to the serious young man who watched her.

The guardianship had not been his idea, no. He'd simply wanted a quiet, safe place to sleep and was smart enough to know that the Slytherin dungeon would be a dangerous option. Blaise Zabini hadn't practiced years of bored disinterest in anything political to end up cursed into a pretzel in a moment of weakness. So, when Professor McGonagall had drawn him out of the Great Hall after the Battle with her unusual request, Blaise had readily agreed – after all, positioning himself in a favorable light with the 'Potter' crowd could only be a good move these days even if it meant playing nice with a blood traitor. 

Naturally, whatever fears he'd had in the small hours of the morning turned out to be minor compared to what awaited him when he woke. Ginny had shifted in her sleep, kicking off the quilt and now lay on her stomach, tantalizing lengths of her legs and abdomen revealed. His gaze traced lazily along the pale expanse, filing away the image for the future. At the first sign of movement, Blaise hastily closed his eyes, unwilling to loose the advantages gained by observing her unobtrusively. 

Ginny stiffened as she came awake, catching a gasp in her throat when her eyes focused in the shadowed light, taking in the lean, still wizard from behind her lashes. When she was confident that he slept, Ginny set about soundlessly slipping out of the bed, gathering a change of clothes before sprinting down the dorm stairs. 

Entering the abandoned Prefect's bath on the third floor, she mused over what had happened in the early morning hours and her moment of weakness in the arms of a Slytherin. _A Slytherin!_ It was an embarrassment she didn't plan to reveal – letting her guard down like that had been foolish and weak. Placing the clothes on a chair by the stained glass window, Ginny quickly stripped out of her uniform and sank into the enormous bubble bath. She'd just laid her head back against the edge of the tub when the door creaked open and the object of her thoughts strolled in nonchalantly.

The water splashed as Ginny ducked up to her chin in suds, her eyes wide as saucers, exclaiming sharply. "Are you mental! Get out! GET OUT!"

"I can't do that, kitten. Your neck is my neck right now," Blaise walked over and leaned against the column, his own clothes tucked under his arm. Quirking an eyebrow, he nodded toward the shower stalls, continuing. "You have my word - I won't peek."

She watched in disbelief as he made his way over to the stalls, levitating his clothes with a flick of his wand but quickly turned her head when he reached for the waistband of his pajamas, a fierce blush coloring her cheeks. After a moment, the sound of spraying water filled the room and she hazarded a glance, finding the infuriatingly calm wizard had turned his back to her. Ginny hesitated then reached for the washcloth, holding her hair out of the water as she washed, glancing over to her companion every few minutes. 

Blaise felt her curious gaze on him and he moved with a calculated precision that showed off his back and shoulders. His cock twitched at the attention, his imagination easily filling in the details that her school uniform had hidden as he washed but Blaise firmly reminded himself of both her status and age – no amount of shapely leg was worth getting hexed into little pieces by her brothers.

"I'm done," Ginny called out as she finished buttoning her shirt. She'd opted for denims and trainers and now she shifted from one foot to the other, anxious to see her family and be away from the unfathomable stare of the wizard.

The water cut off abruptly and Blaise turned in the stall, reaching for the towel hanging over the low wall and began slowly drying off. "It is after dinner but I expect there will be something in the kitchens. After that, we should find Professor M and get you back to your family."

Ginny nodded solemnly, turning quickly away when he opened the stall door, her cheeks flushing. Fixedly watching the mermaid in the stained glass, she ventured to ask. "What about your parents?"

"Mother is in Italy," Blaise replied coolly, tucking his shirttails neatly into his trousers before moving to her side. A hand at her elbow firmly guided her out of the bathroom and past the debris in the corridor to the kitchen. Her family found them perched on stools in the kitchen, surrounded by bustling elves, a short time later and she'd been quickly bundled off to the Burrow with barely a lifted hand of goodbye to the enigmatic wizard who watched with an amused twitch of his eyebrow.

The next month was a blur of funerals and tears, straining Ginny's nerves to breaking point. It was a relief to receive her Hogwart's owl inviting her to finish her Seventh year, anything that got her out of the Burrow and out from under her mother's smothering. Life shifted, becoming about books and quills and robes. 

Waving to her parents from the second to last boxcar of the Hogwart's express, Ginny was quiet when she leaned back in the seat opposite Luna Lovegood. Neville Longbottom joined them a moment later and the former leaders of Dumbledore's Army huddled together on one bench, words unspoken, arms linked, heads on shoulders and they were soon fast asleep.

Seventh year proved to be less exciting but more stressful. Less exciting because any moment of free time was swallowed by Quidditch or studying for N.E.W.T.'s, more stressful because their friends expected that she and Harry would reunite, encouraging it at every turn, despite their reassurances that all they desired was the bond of friendship they already had. 

But, by and large, life was more 'normal' than it had been since she'd started at Hogwarts and Ginny found laughter and comfort in her friendship with Luna and Neville, no longer plagued by the shame of being left behind and resentment of being pushed aside that had haunted her youth. The war had touched them all in different ways and while others pointed to Ginny's new quiet, subdued nature as a means to define her, it was simply that she'd grown – maybe more than she should have but nevertheless, it was a touch of maturity, not sorrow, that hung about her. 

And, although she occasionally sent a serendipitous glance toward the nearly empty Slytherin table in the Great Hall, Blaise Zabini did not materialize. It would be five years before Ginny Weasley crossed paths once more with the mysterious Slytherin. 

In her second year as Seeker for the Holyhead Harpies, after a late Autumn match against the Chudley Cannons, Ginny sat on her broomstick with a smile. They'd won by 1 point and now she hovered just above the Quaffle Hoop, watching the stands slowly empty. It was ritual of hers, to stay on the pitch until she was the last, only then retiring to the locker room for a hot shower. 

Giving one last look around the stadium, Ginny was surprised to see one person remained in the stands. A tall, dark man in well-cut robes leaned against the visitor's rail, looking up at her in veiled amusement. Curiosity overruled caution and Ginny steered her broom down in a slow spiraling motion that brought her ever-closer to the stands while maintaining a safe distance. Fans weren't always well-meaning, after all.

"Security is going to be around soon, mister," Ginny called out, fixing her features in her best 'sorry' expression as she drew her broom level with the stands. "If you wanted an autograph, I'm afraid you'll have to talk to the management office – we're not allowed to give them out after games."

The wizard tilted his face up, stating smoothly. "What if I am not interested in an autograph?"

"Zabini!?!" Ginny sputtered in surprise, her broom jerking down an inch. In the split second it took her to voice her shock, her gaze flickered along the vaguely familiar plane of his jaw and over the plush curve of his lips. If he had been 'fit' as a young man, the wizard had grown into an absolutely breath-taking adult.

Blaise straightened and took a step away from the rail, giving a short, polite bow. "In the flesh, as they say."

"So I can see," she replied, mentally pulling back from the faded memory of a boy she had almost no interaction with, confronted now by a man that she didn't know at all. Ginny had spent the year after graduation in Egypt with her father's aunt, Daisy, because of the death threats on her family and the loss of that innocence had come at a price. Ginny asked. "If you didn't want an autograph, why are you here?"

"This is for you," he replied mysteriously, drawing an envelope from his robe and holding it out to her between two outstretched fingers. His steady, dark gaze held hers without blinking but he remained perfectly still as she swung her broom closer, letting the bit of paper slide from his fingers as she took it. At the edge, he gripped it unexpectedly, holding her wide-eyed gaze firmly before releasing it and saying. "Until we meet again, kitten."

Ginny blinked and, glancing up from the envelope, began to protest just as he Apparated away. Sitting back on her broom, she steered it down to the locker room corridor, putting her broom in her locker before straddling the bench. Sliding her finger between the edges, Ginny gently pried the wax free and drew the parchment out, unfolding it on her knee. 

_Your presence is requested at the opening of Tosca at the Royal Opera House. Attire is formal. A carriage will arrive for you at 7 p.m. on Saturday._

"Watchya got there, Weaslebee?" Alicia questioned, flicking her towel at Ginny before leaning over her shoulder to read for herself. "Opera? You? Isn't that like one of those oximorish things?"

"Oxymoron," Ginny answered wryly, folding up the parchment and shoving it into the side flap of her Quidditch gear bag. "And just what is so funny about me being invited to the Opera?"

Her teammate laughed uproariously and clapped her on the shoulder. "Weaslebee, love, no harm meant, it's just that you're more of a Weird Sisters concert sort of gal. So who's the fancy-shmancy invitation from?"

"It doesn't say but," Ginny replied, her gaze shifting to the door that lead out onto the pitch before continuing. "I think it has to do with Blaise Zabini somehow. He just gave it to me."

A choking cough resounded behind her and finally, Alicia sputtered. "Zabini? As in _the_ Zabini's?"

"Well, I don't know about that. It's just a bloke I went to school with. I remember the odd rumor here and there about his mum being something of a 'marry for galleons' witch but that's about it. We weren't exactly friends. He was in Slytherin House," Ginny shrugged.

"Holy sweet mother of Merlin, it is _the_ Zabini. Weaslebee, even you can't be this clueless! Dumbledore's beard, girl, Blaise Zabini has been at the top of the 'Most Eligible Wizard's List' for the last two years! Play Witch did a spread on him and I do mean, _a spread_!" Alicia exclaimed, giving her friend a look of sheer disbelief.

Grabbing her towel, Ginny stowed her gear and began walking to the showers, saying wryly over her shoulder. "Money and looks don't mean everything, Ali."

"They mean an awful lot to me!" Her friend called after her but Ginny just shook her head and continued on her way. 

Once again, curiosity got the better of her and, with a bit of research, Ginny found a second-hand shoppe that catered to rich, bored women where she found a tasteful but simple full length, off-the-shoulder black gown that only put her back 30 quid. She was silently grateful that the snooty salesclerk had asked if she had gloves to go with it and proceeded to pull a pair of black satin, elbow-length gloves from under the counter, placing them in the bag with a sly smile.

More then once during the week, Ginny considered the mysterious invitation but wild threstals on fire couldn't have kept her from answering the flat door when Saturday evening finally arrived. Sipping a glass of wine while she waited, Ginny wondered – not for the first time - what she was getting herself into by accepting such a vague, innocuous offer. So lost in thought she was, Ginny jumped when a firm knock sounded on the flat door and she set aside her glass with a shaking hand. 

But opening the door only deepened the mystery for there, on her doorstep, was a man she did not know, dressed in formal attire. He gave a short bow and stepped aside, politely but silently indicating that Ginny should join him. Grabbing her transfigured clutch purse, Ginny stepped out into the hall and secured the door with a silently cast locking charm. The man remained silent as he guided her down to the street with a light touch to her elbow, leading the way to the curb and holding the door of the Muggle limousine but he did not join her in the cab. 

The ride was a 45 minutes and then Ginny found herself alone once more, this time in the lobby of the Royal Opera House. An attendant took pity on her and approached, asking for her ticket. Ginny flushed and explained that she had been invited, giving her name. The boy straightened instantly and held his hand out, indicating she should follow and she did, up two flights of stairs holding the edge of her dress gingerly, glancing around as discretely as she could manage, looking up in time to avoid running headlong into the attendant. 

He held open a door and she entered to find a small balcony chamber with two leather seats and a small table but, when Ginny turned back, he was gone. Choosing one of the chairs, she sat just as the lights dimmed and Ginny found herself leaning forward, curiously. After a moment, she realized the soft swelling music was emanating from the floor in front of the stage and she shuffled the chair closer to the balcony rail. 

The curtain parted and Ginny was lost, adrift on an ocean of sound and color, entranced by the wildly swirling actors on the stage, oblivious to the door opening behind her. Blaise closed the door silently, leaning back against it, his arms folded over his chest as he watched Ginny taking in the opera. When the roar of music lowered and set into an even pace, Blaise softly cleared his throat and Ginny whirled, standing at the sight of the wizard. He was dressed in a tuxedo, looking far more comfortable than he had any right to look, a single yellow rose held loosely in one hand. In the flickering candlelight of the balcony box, his eyes danced as his gaze drifted down the length of her gown. 

"You look amazing, kitten," he purred softly, taking a step forward to close the distance between them. He towered above her, reaching out to stroke a hand down her hair before she could react, catching her hand and bringing it up to his lips where he pressed a lingering kiss. Nodding to the stage below, Blaise implored. "Please, sit, enjoy the show." 

All her preparations, the resolve not to be taken in by his charisma and charm, faded into the background at the thunderous beat of her heart and it was all she could do to snatch her hand back from the sexy wizard's grasp without blushing. Cursing her momentary weakness, Ginny straightened her shoulders and quickly returned to her seat, casting her gaze to the stage once more as she firmly got her breathing under control. He took the seat beside her and rested his arm along the back of her own but she ignored him, allowing herself to focus on the story unfolding below. 

When the curtain closed for intermission, Ginny rested her chin on the balcony rail and said gently. "What are you playing at, Zabini?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, Weasley," he answered smoothly. Standing, Blaise held out his hand and tilted his head toward the floor below. "Intermission is generally a time to mingle."

"I don't _mingle_ , Zabini. Go do whatever you have to. I'll be fine right here," she shrugged, turning to look back at him. The shadows of the balcony box lent a touch of mystery to the wizard and it annoyed her. Why did he ask her to come? What was he playing at? Ginny didn't think for a minute that the former Slytherin had good intentions and her wand was tucked neatly into the sleeve of her long gloves just in case.

Arching an eyebrow, he smirked and sat back down, propping his feet on the rail. "All right, we can stay here if you like. Not much for crowds, I take it?"

"If you're going to stay, you could at least tell me why you brought me here," Ginny stated with a soft sigh. The opera was magical in its own right and she had been enraptured by the display but Ginny didn't like mysteries, certainly not ones involving tall, dark, handsome wizards with Cheshire-cat smiles.

"Can't an old classmate want to catch up?"

She laughed, giving her head a shake but answered sardonically, prompting an equally ironic remark that lead to a shared laugh and, before you could say 'Merlin's baggy shorts', the two were deep in conversation that carried over into the carriage ride and only ended at her doorstep.

In the weeks that followed, the mysterious invitations continued and the two were frequently caught by the Prophet reporters' cameras as the playboy wizard showed up at one high society party after another with the shy Quidditch player on his arm. Rumors ran rampant among their friends and family, but Ginny quickly discovered that she had no answers for her very resistant and vocal family. Her teammates teased and wrangled for information but she only shrugged helplessly. 

Although they spent far more time behind closed doors then in the public eye, Ginny couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing a very important clue and, when it came to her, six months into the whirlwind romance, she found her world pulled from beneath her feet.

They were at a party at the Greengrass estate, one of the few pureblood families that had maintained neutrality during the war. Daphne Greengrass had quickly befriended Ginny and remained the only ex-Slytherin that Ginny trusted enough to relax around. Though Ginny bristled to be within ten feet of Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, she kept silent of the fact as they were Blaise's friends and he often tolerated her brother's for her sake. 

Sipping a glass of wine, Ginny wandered into a small library off the ballroom that Daphne had pointed out to her, grateful for the reprieve as she scanned the titles on the shelves. After a few minutes, she was ready to return to the party when a door opened suddenly and, without thinking, Ginny ducked behind a bookcase, hearing the unmistakable voice of Draco Malfoy. Other voices joined in and Ginny covered her mouth when Blaise spoke, obviously commenting on something Pansy had said.

"You didn't tell Pansy, Draco?" he chuckled.

"I would have if you hadn't continued with this ridiculousness, Zabini. I've told you before that I'm ready to pay up."

"Continued what? You two are positively infuriating, you know. It's that pathetic little blood-traitor isn't it? You have a bet, don’t you?"

Blaise answered sharply. "She is not… We did, yes, but…"

Anything he said next was lost to Ginny as her blood ran cold and, dropping her glass, she disapparated to the Burrow. Her parents were sympathetic and understanding, shutting the Floo off and circling the wagons around their distraught daughter. One by one, her brothers arrived and alternated between threatening to kill the wizard and offering to take their sister away to lick her wounds. Finally, she nodded morosely and took Charlie's arm, letting him side-along to the Ministry office where they found a portkey back to the Romanian dragon reserve.

Back at the Greengrass estate, pandemonium had broken out with loud cursing when the wine glass shattered on the library floor. Blaise flew from the room, grabbing Daphne by the arm despite causing a minor scene. "Who was in the library? Tell me it wasn't Ginny! Damn it!" He released her at the stricken look on her face and rounded on Draco and Pansy who had followed, laughing. "Damn you and your bloody bet. I told you months ago I was out, Malfoy. How did… Why you… you knew she was in there, you son of a…"

"Oh, do stop with the dramatics, Zabini. It was amusing at first but you've clearly lost sight of what is important," Draco drawled sardonically, tossing his arm around Pansy's shoulders. "Your mother has been threatening to disinherit you if you kept this up. What kind of friend would I be if I let that happen over a silly little…"

Whatever Draco Malfoy might have been about to say was cut off when Blaise punched him in the face, knocking the blond aristocrat to the floor where he gaped with ludicrous shock at the sight of his own blood pouring over the hand he clasped to his split lip. Blaise shook out his hand as he stood over his friend, panting as he spat out. "My mother threatens to disinherit me every, bloody day, you stupid fool!" 

Glancing up, he met Daphne's stare and his shoulders slumped as he said quietly. "I love her."

"Come with me," Daphne stepped forward, taking the wizard by the arm and hurrying from the room with him. In the hall, she shook her head to indicate he should keep quiet until they reached a small study at the end of the hall. Closing the door behind them, she cast a muffling barrier and crossed the floor to Blaise, slapping him hard on the cheek. "How dare you! This is your fault, you know! She is _my friend_! The only person who doesn't care about my family or my money or what I wear and you've gone and mucked it up. Well, you just pick yourself up there, Zabini and you fix this," Daphne stamped her foot, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Bloody hell, woman, don't you think I know that? Merlin's beard, what am I going to do?" he hissed angrily, rubbing the blossoming bruise on his cheek. 

She pointed to the Floo silently and moved to the window when he knelt beside it but there was no answer at Ginny's flat and the powder fizzled when he tried the Burrow. Six owls returned unanswered, the last returning long after the party was ended by a harried Daphne Greengrass. The two unlikely friends slumped in club chairs by the fireplace, nursing a bottle of wine between them. 

"They aren't going to let you near her, you know," she mused, swirling the ruby liquid in the glass. It had begun snowing an hour before and the crystal flakes clung to the window panes, giving the study a morbid cast. "Her brother's are going to kill you if they get a chance."

"I have to find her first. She wouldn't stay with her folks. I'm willing to bet she's with Bill or Charlie – they aren't the 'told you so' types. If I have a chance, it's with them," Blaise considered carefully, standing and brushing his hands on his trousers, squaring his shoulders. 

Holding up a hand, Daphne knelt at the Floo and, after a moment, the melodic, sing-song voice of Fleur Delacour-Weasley rang out. 

"Non, mon cherie. 'he iz not 'ere. Iz 'hat they say true?"

Quickly filling the French witch in on what was going on, Daphne won her trust and it was not long before they were working out a plot to aid the befuddled wizard. When Daphne signed off with a cheerful wave and grin, Blaise felt distinctly like the canary caught by the cat. "Well? Did she say where Ginny is?"

"She's in Romania, at the dragon reserve with her brother, Charlie. You need to go now. Fleur is Floo'ing the reserve to have a word with Charlie but you'll still have to win him over," she explained, taking the wine glass from him and pushing the wizard toward the door. "Go straight to the Ministry office. I'll Floo ahead to have a portkey waiting. Go on, now. And don't muck it up!"

The snow collected on the pathway and Blaise turned up his collar, disapparating to the alley behind the Ministry and trudging through the growing snow on the sidewalk. If he'd thought it was cold in Britain, it was nothing compared to the stinging bite of the wind that hit him when he portkeyed down at the edge of the reserve. Lights in the distance guided his way through the knee-high snow to the first set of tents that rose up out of the darkness.

A voice cut through the night. "That's far enough."

"Charlie? Did Fleur speak with you?" Blaise halted in his tracks, trying futilely to see through the snow and the darkness.

"She did." There was a heavy sigh. "Fleur has a kind heart but she doesn't have a broken-hearted sister in her tent, either. She doesn't want to see you and I can't let you by."

Lifting his chin, Blaise said. "You do not understand. This is all a big mistake and I have no intention of leaving until I've spoken with Ginny."

When asked later, neither wizard could remember who threw the first punch but both were bloody and bruised when Ginny and two Reserve members found them and pulled them apart. Ginny ran to Charlie first, casting a healing spell on his nose before whirling on Blaise. In the light of the illuminated wands, her eyes sparkled with anger as she shouted. "Are you _mental_? What the hell is wrong with you!"

"Ginny," Blaise struggled to get free from the dragon wranglers but they held his arms firmly. "Ginny, please, I know what you heard but we were set up. Malfoy…"

"You had a bet with Malfoy. To get me, I'm not wrong, am I?" she hissed.

Giving his arm a hard tug, he got it free and a firm glare to the other wrangler won his freedom. Blaise stepped forward, holding out his hand warily – Ginny rarely got angry but when she did, it wasn't safe to antagonize her. "He thought I did but it was just an excuse to keep him quiet. Ginny, I never meant it. I needed something to deflect them, that's all. Babe, please…"

"Don't 'babe' me. You expect me to believe that? You've never made a single hint of feeling and now you expect me to believe you deliberately tricked _your_ friends just to get close to me?" Ginny growled, pulling a bit of cloth from her pocket to dab at the blood running from Charlie's nose, demanding. "You _hit_ my brother! What happened to 'I'm a lover, not a fighter'?"

"I…" he hesitated, throwing caution to the wind and reaching out to curl a hand around her bicep, drawing her closer. In the flickering light, her cheeks were flush and her hair shimmered but he focused his gaze on her own and said quietly. "I never had anything worth fighting for before. Ginny, I love you. I have since that night back at Hogwarts."

She gaped, blinking in surprise. Swallowing hard, Ginny whispered. "But… I mean, you didn't… that was five years ago!"

"I thought Potter had you. I went to Italy and tried to forget you but I couldn't. When I finally realized that Potter was fool enough to walk away from you, I came back," Blaise implored, cupping her cheek in his hand, brushing a thumb along the soft plane of her cheek. "I wanted to win you over, show you I was someone you could trust. Care for. I was… afraid that if I told you how I felt, you would just think I was trying to get into your knickers."

Ginny gave a weak laugh but glanced up at him skeptically as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it as she considered what he'd said. "You're mental, you know. I… I don't know what to believe anymore."

"I'll take Verasitum. Right now, if they've got some here," he stated quickly, looking up questioningly. Hope rushed through his veins at her words, relief that he hadn't thought possible. 

She licked her lips and said. "So, it was Malfoy you were lying to, not me?"

"I don’t want you thinking of Malfoy when I'm kissing you, kitten," Blaise purred, stepping closer.

Ginny tilted her head, confused as she replied. "But you aren't…" 

Her words were cut off by the hard press of his lips, pulling her close as he bent his head, slanting his mouth over hers in a ravenous kiss, forcing her lips apart with the insistent press of his tongue to sweep inside, stealing her breath as he molded her body to his own. Ignoring the surprised cough of her brother, Blaise poured his heart into the kiss, drawing it out until finally, they drew apart only for lack of breath. 

Resting his forehead against hers, he closed his eyes, whispering. "I'm tired of hiding from the past. I want to work on the future and I won't give you up without a fight, kitten. Don't ask me to."

"I won't but do you think we could get out of the snow now? I want to hear more about why you haven't tried to get into my knickers," Ginny teased, smiling shyly. 

He bent, swinging her up into his arms and turned toward the tents as the reserve workers quickly moved out of their path. "That was a miscalculation I plan to correct. Which one is yours?"

Ginny pointed to the third one in the row and squealed as he bounced her higher in his arms. A blushing wave over his shoulder to her brother was the last thing anyone saw of the pair for a long time.


End file.
